


Cold Smoke

by valiantprincex



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Clones, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Gen, POV - Helena (Orphan Black), POV Third Person, Platonic sestre all the way
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-25 19:41:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4973608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valiantprincex/pseuds/valiantprincex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sarah and Helena are twins, the <em>same</em> except for the mirrored beating of their hearts. But when Sarah is bitten, Sarah changes, and Sarah is never the same again.</p><p>(Or: AU where Sarah is monstrous and Helena is all too human)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic in a few months, just in time for Halloween! This fic is the equivalent of a mischievous child who likes to run away at the most inconvenient of times. Big thanks to tumblr users @motherofscorpions and @bayliey for reading this a few months ago, and thanks to @writingcello for giving it a final beta!
> 
> –Warnings– Blood, discussion of physical injury, weapons.
> 
> I hope to update this once a week-ish? or every 2 weeks? *crosses fingers* so stay tuned!

When Sarah is bitten, Sarah _changes_ , and Helena crumbles.

But first: Sarah's knees hit the dirt like twin gunshots, the _same_ , Helena drives a knife into the beast’s heart. It shakes, snarls, fangs dripping with her sister's blood. Helena doesn't hesitate, in one motion the blade slips out of the beast's rib cage and into its throat. She rips down and hears a sickening squelch, her knife ripping through fur and skin and arteries like wet paper.

She doesn't stay to watch it falter, fall to the ground like a puppet without strings. Instead she shoves it aside and crouches carefully over her sister's bleeding form. Helena's hands are gentle, soft, bloodied, and as she cradles Sarah in her arms she stands, feels the sharp knock of Sarah's heart against her own. Helena can feel it, through cloth and skin and bone she can _feel_ it, her sister's soul frantically beating against the bars of its failing container.

Helena spits on the beast as she walks away, scowls with strange triumph over its twisted limbs and dead, _dead_ eyes, limp body bled out on the pavement. Sarah shifts in her arms, mumbling wordles distress into Helena’s jacket. Sarah feels cold in Helena’s arms as a heavy kind of memory shivers down her spine like split knuckles, like bruises, like playground fights and slammed doors. _Serves it right,_ she thinks, feeling its eyes bore into her back. _Serves it right, just like all the_ others _, like_ Victor _, like–_

Sarah coughs blood, and Helena pulls her tighter, runs. The alley yawns back at her, the darkness creeping like a gaping maw.

Helena brings her to the only person she knows can help, a woman with eyes like storm clouds and a house of red brick. When Siobhan opens to door, sees Helena cradling her daughter, both of them splattered with blood, she ushers them inside without a word. Helena lets her place Sarah on the couch where Sarah coughs red, shivers and bleeds on the cushions. She looks like she belongs here, though, like she belongs in this red brick house, which is more than Helena can muster. Helena shifts from foot to foot by the door, something in her is whispering, _you do not belong._ She takes off her coat and hangs it by the door, because that is the right thing to-do, but she shivers.

She wants to follow Sarah, to crouching by her head and stroke the blood from her face, but her legs are frozen, unmoving. _You do not belong._ Eventually another side of her wins out, sends her padding across the living room to kneel next to Sarah, press her forehead to Sarah's neck.

"She'll be alright, Helena," Siobhan says, eyes taking in Helena's bloodied clothing, her unmarked skin. Helena doesn't trust her, not really, but Sarah does, and so Helena came. Something in Siobhan's eyes says she doesn't trust Helena, something in her body seems like a drawn bow, a cocked pistol ready to fire.

"I killed it," Helena says, hoping that this will be enough, that this revenge will be _enough_.

It isn't. Siobhan casts her one long glance before turning to work, hands working quickly. Helena backs away, knows when she is not wanted, not needed. Siobhan's hands stitch up the bitemarks oozing along Sarah's shoulder with tender grace, swathing the wounds in gauze.

“Where were you,” Siobhan snaps suddenly. Her hands tremble as she unscrews the cap, pours alcohol on a cotton swab. She dabs at Sarah’s cheek in short, delicate strokes, and Helena flinches.

“We– ” Helena stammers, struggles to string words together as she feels herself falling apart. “It was late, Sa– I wanted to get home faster.” She takes a deep breath.

“You know that’s where they hunt,” Siobhan hisses, “You should know not to go there at night.”

“We didn’t,” Helena protests, “we weren’t–”

“Save it.”

Helena flinches, but stays silent. Her mind races with excuse after excuse -- _we didn't go into the forest, it must have come to city streets to hunt; hungry, hungry,_ hungry _, it wasn't our fault it was_ hungry _\--_ but each one dies in her throat. If she had struck faster, if she had moved first, if she had shoved Sarah aside and taken the bite herself -- it just looked like a dog in the shadows, just like that she couldn't have known known known -- if she wasn't a failure failure failure _failurefailurefailurefailure._

When Siobhan steps back Helena looks up eagerly, but she can only sigh, gathering up her tools.

"Is she--" Helena tries, chewing her bottom lip.

"We'll see," comes the reply. "I know that bite, there isn't--" Siobhan stops herself, reaches to stroke the hair out of Sarah's face. "We'll see."

When Helena returns to Sarah's side she rests her head where Sarah's heart lies, a perfect mirror to her own. She hears it beat, low and strong but there's something else there, too, a steady thrum of a song with the bite of snapping teeth. Helena puts a hand up to her own neck to feel the pulse there, feels it beat steady in her ribcage, empty.

They're different, Helena thinks. Sarah is different. Helena frowns, shoves the thought away. They are the same, have been the same forever, will be for just as long. Helena pulls her lip between her teeth, feels her own lie turn to dust in her mouth.

Sarah wakes with a cough and a shudder, and her first word is: “ _Helena_.”

Now Sarah walks with a limp, the barest click of bones not-quite aligned shivering up her leg with every step. Helena pounds after her still, each step a mirror of the other, each step still the same.

This is the first break: they used to be the _same_ , down to the sweep of their walk and the beat of their hearts; but now Sarah is changed, and Helena knows – like breaking – that they will never be the same again.

But first: Helena watches her with a careful eye, prays to gods she's only read about, hopes that Sarah will  – but Sarah _isn't_ the same, never the same again, and the first time she changes Helena can feel her heart breaking.

The first time Sarah changes she screams, body twisting against her will, limbs cracked and shifted.

Helena doesn't know what's happening, at first. She's sleeping, head tucked under the curve of Sarah's chin, so when Sarah bolts upright Helena wakes to her sister's labored breathing. When Helena looks at her she sees the beast's eyes, sees the curve of the beast's throat and its sharp, ready teeth.

Helena scrambles off the bed, tumbling down onto the carpeted floor. "What did you do to my sister?" she coughs out, remembering how her knife felt, tearing through skin and fur and bone. "Where is _Sarah_."

The beat whines, hisses, looks at her and Helena sees – something. It coughs, doubles over, whispers "Help me," in Sarah's voice.

And Helena knows. Helena _knows_ , so she edges closer, reaches her hands out to stroke Sarah's face.

"Help me," Sarah says again, the words turned rough and raw, desperate. "Help m--" and she shudders, blinks, snaps at Helena's fingers with teeth starved of blood. Helena moves without thinking, pulls back and shoves Sarah away, falls back.

"Sarah?" Helena whispers, staring into eyes that shine too bright in the night. Sarah's body twists and catches the moonlight, and Helena _sees_. Helena sees a mess of skin and mangled angles, like the body isn't quite sure what it wants to be. Like it only knows the memory of limbs, like it only knows _not human._ It twitches, turns the head to face Helena and growls. Its a low rumble like earthquakes, like stormclouds, and Helena freezes. It sounds like a song. She stares into teeth that seem to swell, reaching toward her at slow, delicate speed.

When the beast knocks her down, plants its limbs on her shoulders, Helena doesn't move. She can't. The song fills her ears like a welcome rainstorm, something telling her to stay, to sleep.

Teeth graze her neck, delicate and deadly, Sarah's jaw opened wide. And she stops. Sarah shudders, teeth still grazing Helena's neck, but her eyes wander, cloud. "Helena," she croaks, the roughness gone from her voice, her voice too human in the darkened room.

"Sarah," Helena says back, feeling her sister's heavy weight as Sarah's eyes roll back and her teeth shrink. Her limbs give one final, sickening crunch and Sarah collapses, her head falling to rest next to Helena's quick beating heart.

The first time Sarah changes Helena is ready to die. And the next time, and the next, until the end Helena is ready to die at the hands of her sister.

But first: Helena curls by Sarah's side and rests her head on the crook of Sarah's shoulder. She wraps her arms around Sarah’s still shaking body and listens to Sarah breathe -- a steady flow interrupted by sharp jolts that send Sarah whimpering, and Helena clenches tighter. After a long time – and she doesn’t know how long, just that by the time Sarah’s breaths quiet the stars have shifted. Helena picks up her sister's limp form and rests her back on the bed and spreads her thickest blanket over her sister’s sleeping form.

And then Helena leaves, she tucks the covers over Sarah and plants one kiss on her forehead, then goes to find the one person she thinks will help.

She stands on grey concrete, hand resting on the smooth wood of the door, a dark brown in contrast the the red brick of the house. With a deep breath Helena knocks. She waits, shifting from foot to foot, hands twitching on the sleeves of her coat.

When the door opens Siobhan's eyes narrow as she takes in Helena, shivering on her doorstep. "She's changed," Siobhan says softly.

Helena nods quickly, and Siobhan ushers her inside.

  
  


 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! I'm probably going to keep the update schedule at every 2 weeks. Thanks to tumblr users @motherofscorpions and @writingcello for betaing this chapter!!
> 
> –Warnings– Discussion of physical injury, allusions to violent acts

“Stop starin’ at me meathead,” Sarah mutters. She’s sitting on the couch, legs pulled close under a thick blanket.

Helena looks at her hands instead, but then her eyes twitch back to Sarah. She can’t help it. Sarah sighs, closing her eyes and rolling onto her side. Helena stares at Sarah’s fingers, the curve of skin on muscle on bone, the way her nails are cracked, the way they are not claws.

She remembers holding Sarah, afterwards, for a long time – for minutes or hours she’s not sure, not sure she cares either. She remembers the way she cradled Sarah’s body in her arms, feeling the last shift of settling bone. Now, the only tangible sign that anything has changed is the redness around Sarah’s joints, still swollen after being wrenched out of place and back again. Like a shadow reminder that they are no longer the same.

Helena watches Sarah sleep, she sits in the rickety rocking chair with her legs tucked underneath her; she can’t feel them anymore, nothing but pins-and-needles, but that’s fine, fine, fine. Helena wraps her arms around herself and digs her nails into her shoulders, not touching, watching the steady rise-fall of Sarah's chest. She worries – in an absurd sort of way – about breaking her. Like it had been Helena’s fangs around Sarah’s throat instead of the other way around. Instead of reversed, like two hearts in two breathing chests.

And so she sits, not touching. Helena bites her lip, continuing her steady vigil, fingers working, digging into her shoulders. Her hands itch. Right under her palms, under her fingernails, the crook of her wrist. They itch everywhere and nowhere, a hurt she can’t place. She remembers the change, how Sarah became _not-_ Sarah, how it was over as quickly as it had begun. She remembers lifting Sarah onto the bed, and–

And she hasn’t touched Sarah since _that_ night, since the night Sarah’s bones shook and shifted. The night she asked Siobhan for help, begging at her door for a hope she couldn’t help but hold on to. When she returned to their shabby apartment she expected the shadows to move, melt into the abomination -- into _Sarah_. _Sarah is not_ , Helena thinks, forcibly, hissing at her own hesitation. _Sarah is not an abomination_. She hangs her coat on a hook near the door and flinches at each flickering movement in the shadows.

Now Sarah shakes at night, involuntary muscle spasms that send her twitching, like her bones don’t quite remember how to stay.

Now Sarah wakes in cold sweat, wakes from nightmares that Helena can only imagine. Like she can only _think of_ , not feel, never feel, Helena can’t touch these dreams of Sarah’s and she feels–

Now Sarah doesn’t look at her, averts her eyes like _Helena_ is the monster, and Helena is afraid.

But first: Sarah _changes_ , and Helena steps carefully over the red brick threshold, feels Siobhan's eyes boring into her back. Imagines her thinking, _It should have been you_. And it should have, it should have been Helena's body that betrays her, it should be Helena's body breaking.

When Siobhan shuts the door behind her Helena feels a breath of finality.

"How long?"

"I--" Helena tries to remember, doesn't. "I don't know." Her throat is dry, her fingertips itching.

"Sit," Siobhan says in reply, slipping into the other room. Helena hears her turn on the stove, the soft clack of a tea pot set on the burner. She sinks into the couch, rubs the fabric with the palms of her hands and tries to keep still.

When Siobhan comes back she sighs, sets a cup of tea down for Helena. "It's not your fault," she murmurs, sitting down next to Helena. "It's not your fault."

Helena feels a pressure building in her chest, heavy, coiled at the base of her diaphragm and pulsing, threatening to burst. "I don't know what to do," she whispers, breathless, hoping the words will release the roar swelling in her. “I–”

"Is she alive?" Siobhan asks, and when Helena gives her a sharp nod, she rests a hand on Helena's back. "Then she’ll be alright. Sarah’s a fighter, you know that. She'll be in pain for a while, so help her out a bit you know Sarah, she can be so..." she trails off.

Helena laughs suddenly, a sharp bark of a noise, grinning. _Yes, Sarah_ is _._ Siobhan’s hand is heavy on her shoulder. _Protect her,_ the hand seems to say. _Of course,_ Helena wants to reply, _of_ course _I will. Like always, don’t you see,_ _like_ always. _It should have been you_ , Helena feels the weight of Siobhan’s hand saying. _Protect her, it should have been you._

“I tried,” Helena says, barely a whisper.

And when Helena returns to their shabby apartment Sarah is still -- still _sleeping_ , chest sighing in-out in gentle waves. Still _Sarah_. She shifts slowly, limbs creaking underneath the thick blanket Helena had carefully tucked under her chin.

She stands there a long time, and as the sun kisses the horizon she is still there, breathing in time to Sarah's gentle sighs. The sun climbs high, and Helena shifts her aching bones but keeps standing -- because Sarah needs her, now, and that is all Helena has ever wanted.

And then.

Sarah wakes.

But first: Before the sun rises Helena coils her fears into her hands and holds them tight, turns that fear into hope, denial. Because They _have_ weathered different storms, different aches, and they are still the-same, and so. Helena prays.

No.

Helena hopes, because she does not know how to pray. Not _yet_. And maybe that's why Sarah wakes in cold sweat, why Sarah walks with a shudder-stop limp and why her hands twitch, itch, ache. Maybe that's why Sarah _changes_ , again and again and again, until--

> _Sarah looks Helena like_ Helena _is the monster and screams. Like a roar, like a yell; Sarah_ _screams_ _and shoves her away and then Helena_ _is_ – _falling._
> 
> “ _Why,” Helena_ _chokes out,_ _wishing she could seize Sarah, force her to listen, stay, stop._
> 
> “ _I’m– I don’t want to hurt you” Sarah_ _pleads._ “ _If I stay I’m gonna hurt you, Helena, and I can’t do that. So I gotta go.”_

\--until the end, Helena clenches her hands and hopes.

But Helena does not yet know how to pray, and maybe that's why the word-wishes die.

Or perhaps: Helena coils her fears into hope and clenches her hands and waits, powerless, because that is all she knows how to do. Helena fears and hopes and wishes, and she clenches her hands because she is scared -- too scared to touch, too scared to wake her sister -- and her wishes leave her lips in silent sighs, caught by the still night air and turned to nothing.

Or: Helena does not know how to pray, and so she stands, wishes, watches. And as the sun rises Sarah wakes, and Sarah is changed; but Sarah's been different for a while now -- since the fangs split into her shoulder and poisoned her blood -- and any wish now comes far too late.

Maybe.

Sarah wakes all the same. She coughs, speaks, and for a moment the sound catches like her lungs have forgotten how sound human. But the real forgetting comes later, and so when Sarah wakes she coughs and growls, both sounds mingling together until they are: one.

"Helena," Sarah coughs, and for an instant her eyes fix onto Helena like Helena is some _thing_ , like Helena is meat or food or _nothing_ , and she is afraid. "Helena," Sarah coughs again, and her voice is rough, scratched, but all, all Sarah.

So. Just a trick of the light, then. A memory.

Helena shakes herself, steps carefully over to the bed and tugs the blanket back in place. "Sarah," she says simply, relishing how the name curls on her tongue -- because Sarah is here, and Sarah is whole, and Sarah is so, so human.

Perhaps her wishes winged their way to someone after all.

 _(No_.)

And now Sarah moves like _it_ did, all slow creaking bones and quick movement. And now Helena's heart thumps like a rabbit in a cage when Sarah looks at her, her eyes scared, scared, scared. Because Sarah is scared and Helena can do _nothing_.

And then the memories come -- they come only in dreams, her waking self having long banished them to the dusky, unkempt corners of her mind. They filter through through cracks of consciousness -- all fragments, all bits-and-pieces, blinks in the night mapped into stories.

("Helena," Sarah whispers, scared, and Helena is there and and Helena buries her fist in the bully's throat.)

("Helena," Sarah whispers, scared, and Helena rises and slams the door on another foster parent's knuckles.)

("Helena," Sarah whispers, scared, and Helena goes and wets her hands in a back alley with the blood of a boy named _Victor_.)

("Helena," Sarah whispers, scared, and Helena is there, always, _always_ ; Helena is there with her fists and nails and brute strength, and then Sarah is no-longer afraid.)

"Helena," Sarah whispers, scared, and this time Helena can do: _nothing_.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: I actually wanted to title this fic in reference to Eat You Alive by the Oh Hello's, but I couldn't find a good title-lyric :(
> 
> (Also in case it wasn't clear, that was a flash _forward_ )

**Author's Note:**

> Two feet standing on a principle  
> Two hands longing for each others warmth  
> Cold smoke seeping out of colder throats  
> Darkness falling, leaves nowhere to go
> 
> It's spiraling down  
> Biting words like a wolf howling  
> Hate is spitting out each others mouths  
> But we're still sleeping like we're lovers ~ [_Still_ , by Daughter](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nHlDU7GokIc)
> 
>  
> 
> If you liked, a kudo and/or comment would make my day! :D


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